


Kingdom Come

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bed boys, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Charles Is A Virgin, Erik is secretly in love with Charles, First Time, Human Charles, King Erik, King!Erik, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plugs, Powered AU, Vibrators, Virgin!Charles, hand wavy customs, pointless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the age of 16, Charles departs for Genosha to become the King's bed boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Kingdom Come 王者歸來](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792781) by [Analgisia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analgisia/pseuds/Analgisia)



> This started out as a distraction fic. Whenever I needed a break from studying I'd go to it and type a few words. I've cleaned it up and here is the result.
> 
> Thank you Kageillusionz and Velvetcadence for your input and beta.

The day King Lehnsherr was born would be known to the people of Westchester as the Cursed day. They hated Lehnsherr. Charles’ parents often told him of the cruel deeds the Genoshian King did, what future plans he had, how he wanted the best for his people yet yearned for the rest of humankind to lay at his feet.

The King of Genosha wanted many things and would do everything to achieve them.

Charles was seven when the war ended. He couldn’t remember much of what happened in his childhood except that the King had visited. There’d been a celebration that day, a feast spreading from one end of the table to the other. There was dance and laughter and smiles; although those smiles were strained.

Standing beside his mother, Lady of Westchester, Charles watched while she and the King conversed. The words they used were beyond his vocabulary range but he filed them away in the library of his mind; he’d review them later when he managed his hands on a dictionary.

His mother’s face was grim, and the King’s mouth tightened while she spoke. King Lehnsherr was young. Incredibly so. He didn’t look like a King more so an older brother.

Finally, both nodded and parted ways. At night during bed time while his mother tucked him into bed, she’d explained that years down the road, Charles would depart as a gift to King Lehnsherr. It was a decision his step father had made to gain favour with the new ruler and one that Charles would have to uphold.

Charles did not understand the implications of things then. But as the years went by and the approaching day for him to leave home for Genoshian shores neared, fear engulfed him in absolution.

It terrified him. As his reckoning drew closer, Charles found himself hiding away from the world. He locked himself in his room and refused to eat, and then cried at night until he fell asleep only to repeat the routine again when morning came. Truly, King Lehnsherr was a curse and Charles was chained to him with no escape in sight.

Alas, despite his fervent praying for a miracle, the day of departure arrived. Bidding his parents goodbye, Charles headed for the pier.

Boarding the royal ship, he found himself stared at by the crew members. They were murmuring. Charles couldn’t decipher what they were saying. Genoshians spoke the same language the people of his country did. And yet, all he heard were soft whispers and all he saw were sympathetic faces. Dimly, he caught the words, “so young,” spoken in a hushed, pitied manner.

Young? Was sixteen young? Charles wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was. But he felt he had no right being ‘young’; he carried the weight of an entire country upon his shoulders. Westchester had sent him to Genosha as a gift to appease the King and Charles would to see to it that King Lehnsherr was pleased with him.

Even with this knowledge in mind, it didn’t stop the backs of his eyes from stinging hot, didn’t soothe the uncertainty that wallowed in his gut. In his room aboard the ship, Charles shivered in the darkness as the ship sailed further and further away from home. Someone was sniffling and Charles could sympathize. Only, he realized the source of the sound was coming from himself. He was sobbing. Homesick already. He was leaving home to start life anew as a bed boy for King Lehnsherr. A personal bed warmer amongst the many other bed boys the King probably kept. It was upsetting and terrifying, but Charles hadn’t much of a choice. He brought his legs up to his chest, curled up under the covers and waited for daylight to come.

Arriving in Genosha was a small affair. No one came to greet him. He’d only been collected by one of the servants after she realized that Charles had been aimlessly walking around the halls for a good half hour. A bed boy, he thought again. Nothing but a bed boy.

While being guided to the bathing rooms, she mentioned that he needed a little more weight if he were to be the King’s personal heater and pillow. Charles flustered, nodding and promising to eat more during meal times.

The cleaning process entailed Charles being stripped of his civilian clothing, brought into a large bathroom and put into a round tub where he was thoroughly scrubbed until his skin was red and raw. The servants weren’t at all shy with washing him. They touched him everywhere and tugged him around while Charles made flustered sounds, deigning to let them primp him. His body heated with embarrassment and he ran his hand through his damp hair, pushing back his fringe from his eyes. After several minutes, Charles managed to school some semblance of control and stopped wriggling about. He settled in the water and let them wash his hair as they saw fit. For a while, it was even pleasant, and Charles kept silent in the vicinity of his own thoughts, seeking comfort there where no one could harm him, sighing softly when they ran the cloth over his skin.

It was when they needed to clean him there, inside, that Charles became puzzled. Why on earth would they need to clean him inside? Doing as he’d been instructed, he stood up and bent over. Warm hands held and spread his ass cheeks apart and Charles suddenly felt exposed.

It was for the King’s enjoyment later in the night, they’d said. Well, if his King enjoyed this, then it would be something Charles had to bear with.

The lady servants were meticulous and methodical, prodding inside him where no one had ever done so before. Charles’ knees threatened to buckle beneath him. One of them smeared oil all over his inner walls making Charles squirm, biting down a whine as his lips swelled beneath his teeth and his fingers clenched tight to the edge of the tub. It was an unpleasant sensation that left his face burning hot as they sleeked him. Then they slotted a plug into his hole and his knees eventually gave out as he fell back into the water.

He’d wanted to ask why and how this might be enjoyable for the King but decided against it. It must be a culture of theirs. Perhaps everyone had one of these inside them as well. It was odd, but Charles would simply have to accept it. He had to admit though, the area where he’d been stretched burned a little. It was weird being constantly held open like that. Squeezing around it made his skin rub against the smooth plug whereas if he relaxed, he worried it would slip out. God only knew the kind of trouble he'd be in with the servants if it popped out before Charles even got to the King’s chambers.

Like an odd gangly colt walking for the first time, Charles waddled his way through the halls. Thank God the King’s room was only mere metres away now. Charles’ legs could hardly keep him up any longer and he gratefully collapsed into the bed when the servants chased him up on it. It was unfortunate he couldn’t stay lying face down and flat on his stomach for they turned him over and started to arrange him. They shifted his limbs and called him a, “wild flower,” a term Charles frowned at when one servant tsk-ed at him when he accidentally moved his left hand. Arranging him back into place again, they demanded he stayed still. Charles blinked in lieu of nodding. Satisfied with their handiwork, they left.

Alone in the King’s sleeping quarters, he looked down at himself. He was splayed out on the bed with the silk robe artfully covering his body but parted in the middle so that it exposed his chest and trailed a line down his stomach and abdomen. His legs were bent at the knees and slightly opened, making it easy for the King to come and lay above him. Frankly, it felt ridiculous. If Charles were to stay this way until the King came for him, he would be waiting until his limbs grew tired.

He huffed, shifting out of his assigned position and turning onto his side. Damned Genosha and her odd requirements before sex. Damned servants who’d commented on his skinny body but never thought to provide him with food before sending him to the King’s chambers. He hadn’t eaten since leaving the ship and now his stomach was stirring up a riot. Last but not least, damn the King and his love for collecting bed boys. If the war had never started, if King Lehnsherr had not visited, Charles wouldn’t be lying here fighting hunger.

Huddling into the bed, Charles lay there and tried to forget about this momentary discomfort. All around him was quiet save for the rumbling of his stomach and the rustling of his robe scratching against the bed sheets. The smooth silk was thin and hugged the outline of his body, accenting the curve that lead to his thighs. It made him feel… alluring, if that could be the correct word to use; he giggled at the thought. And then it made him feel dastardly stupid and foolish. No doubt, they were trying hard to make him presentable but he didn’t see why that mattered when the King was going to fuck him and kick him out of the bed after.

He sighed, thoughts swirling in his head. The truth was that he was afraid of the King but needed to please him. On the other hand, he wanted nothing more than to return home. The latter, however, was not a possibility.

His breathing quickened and he felt like he might cry once again. No, Charles thought, he wouldn’t. He’d been tasked with pleasing the King and he wasn’t going to allow his tears to ruin the King’s mood. He let out a deep exhale and turned towards one of the pillows, pressing his face into the softness, nuzzling curiously. Its scent was deep and musky and Charles picked up a hint of sandalwood. This was how the King smelt like, _his_ King. He’d seen him only once in his life. What did the King look like now? Had he put on weight? Had he grown a beard since?

Charles let his imagination take flight, and after he’d grown bored of envisioning, he shut his eyes, just for a moment. He realized, belatedly, his eyelids growing heavy and his body, light, as though he were being carried. Don’t fall asleep, he told himself, but somewhere between the King’s arrival and this, he must’ve done exactly that. When he next opened his eyes, it was dark, the sole allowance of light being the one drifting in through the spread of the curtains.

Something shifted against him, a warm weight pressing him down into the bed. Charles startled as soft lips kissed at his neck.

“It’s alright,” someone whispered into his ear. The kisses were gentle and teasing and when teeth caught his skin and nipped lightly, Charles gasped. Following that, a tongue lapped at the bite mark almost apologetically, and he heard someone call his name.

Charles’ eyelids fluttered. When he focused his vision, a man’s face came into view. The King.

“You-Your Highness,” he stuttered, much to his dismay. What an impression he must have made falling asleep on the King’s bed when he should have been waiting for his arrival, should have been prepared to receive him and please him in every way possible.

“Good evening to you too,” the King said. A hand came to cup Charles’ face and Charles leaned into the warmth, nuzzling it with such affection that it surprised himself.

Under the pale moonlight, a pair of steely grey eyes held Charles’ gaze. The King looked the same he did the first time Charles saw him, except perhaps with deeper lines on his face now. His shoulders were broader, and his skin, scarred by battle. There was a small nick above his right upper lip that Charles longed to touch, to smooth the pad of his fingers over. Then, there was the man’s smile, a large broad grin that showed too many teeth when Charles realized he’d actually gone and reached up to trace the mark with his middle and forefinger.

“What happened?” Charles asked in a whisper.

“I was still a young prince then. Excitable and enthusiastic about everything. Once, I was out on the streets when I got into a fight. My first real fight,” his King explained kindly. “This is my mark.”

Charles couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. Even the King had his days of folly. Charles traced over the King’s lips and when the man pursed them to kiss his fingers, he gasped, face flushing warm at the gesture. King Lehnsherr took his wrist and kissed the inside of it, a thumb rubbing smooth circles into the small of his palm.

“How old are you now, Charles?” King Lehnsherr asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer.

“I’m sixteen, your Majesty,” Charles said. “That’s why I came. That’s why I’m here now. I am to leave home and come to you the minute I turned of age.” It was the agreement between Genosha and Westchester.

“Sixteen,” the King said, bitterness in his voice. “That’s very young.” Erik pushed a leg between Charles’ and he couldn’t help but moan. “I did ask to have you come only when you turned eighteen. Your parents wouldn’t allow it. Your mother would have barred me from leaving until I’d accepted their gift.”

“Oh.” Charles’ heart sank. He’d always known he’d become King Lehnsherr’s gift, his mother had all but raised him with this fact in mind. He’d thought it was King Lehnsherr who’d wanted Charles here because he was young; child-like. Innocent. The younger he was, the more dainty he would be. It was attractive, so he’d been told. Upon realization that it was his mother who’d pushed Charles to leave home so early, he felt remotely as though he’d been disowned. He lowered his head and turned away.

“None of that now,” King Lehnsherr said. Charles made a quiet sound, understanding his words but unable to chase the self-doubt and uncertainty away. His trepidation must’ve been sensed by the King for he sighed, nudging the tip of his nose against Charles’ temple, an act of distraction.

It soothed him, if only a little, and then the King asked, “Have you been bedded yet?” and it was so abrupt Charles’ mind was a disarraying jumble.

“I’ve… I’ve not been bedded yet, your Majesty,” he said truthfully.

“Erik. You may call me Erik, but only when we’re together and alone.” Erik peppered kisses over his face and then planted another at his temple. Like he were blessing Charles, Erik kissed his forehead, his right brow, his cheek, and then finally he kissed him.

Erik kissed like he was raging war and Charles was unclaimed territory. Erik cupped his face with one large hand and kept him close. His hold on Charles was tight but Charles was happy for Erik to lead. Erik’s tongue flicked against his lips and Charles parted them to let him in, moaning when Erik shifted, forcing Charles’ legs apart so that he could settle between them. A skilled grind of Erik’s hips down had Charles feeling the hot press of the King’s clothed erection just under his balls, against his perineum. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned into the mouth covering his own, feeling thin chapped lips curl into a smile. Sharp teeth nipped at the plump of his lower lip and Charles’ body pulsed with heat.

“I see they have prepared you.” Erik traced his fingers along the outer rim of the plug. Charles mewled and writhed in light pleasure. Despite that, Erik's brows were pinched and his mouth pulled in a tight thin line.

“Does this displease you, your Majesty?” Charles asked, then hastily made correction. “I… it was said that this was for your enjoyment, Erik.”

“It doesn’t displease me, no. But you’ve never been bedded before. This must’ve hurt.”

Oh. Erik was worried about him. He felt his heart swell two sizes in his chest. “No, it didn’t hurt. But it did feel weird for a while. I’ve never… I’ve never had anything inside me before,” he admitted. “Yet the servant ladies, they were… ” The memories brought a flush to his cheeks. “They were meticulous, but they did not hurt me. Is this… alright? Erik? Am I doing this right?”

A gentle smile spread across Erik’s face. “You’re okay, Charles. Let me take care of you.”

The statement was lost on Charles who’d only stared wondrously at Erik, unassuming of what that meant. It wasn’t until the plug twisted from side to side that Charles cried out, his hands scrambling at the sheets at the sudden feel of it rubbing intimately inside him.

“Does this hurt?” Erik asked, worry in his voice. A reassuring hand rubbed up and down his side soothingly as if he were a startled mare.

The truth was that it did hurt, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good as well. Intense, would be the word to describe the way the large bulbous plug moved within him, brushing against a certain spot that had the world spinning in spirals. “It doesn’t hurt, Erik. It feels…” he trailed off. Erik hummed, and the plug gave an ominous twitch. The next moment, it all but started to vibrate and Charles’ head fell back, his back arching off the bed, his fingers digging into the white cotton sheets. “Ahhh – Nghn… Erik, that… how are you doing that…?”

Of course. Erik was Gifted. King Lehnsherr’s powers had never been made known to the public, but as the plug vibrated and buzzed away within him, it was clear even to the blind that Erik was a metallokinetic. It felt so good, and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. Charles’ cock swelled and erected, peeking out from the parted robe.

Erik grasped his cock to stroke, starting at the base and then pulling slowly upwards to the tip where he smeared the pearl of pre-come over the uncut head.

“How do you pleasure yourself, Charles?” A quiet sob gave way as Erik squeezed him.

“I don’t, Sir… I’m not allowed to touch myself.” He was told that if he did, he would no longer be pure enough for the Genoshian King. So whenever the urges came, Charles would plunge himself in cold water and force them away. But now, the feeling of being filled like this, of the rising pleasure that kept escalating, pitching higher with every thrum of a second—Charles whimpered as Erik skilfully tugged his cock. He tried to speak, tried to tell Erik that it was beginning to overwhelm him, that he felt feverish all over and could hardly breathe.

Charles squirmed as Erik reached between his legs to push the plug further inside him still. The tip pressed down on a certain sensitive spot and his hips bucked on its own volition, trying to run from the jolting sensation. As he jerked on the bed, Erik hushed and made cooing sounds at him.

“Shh… Charles, relax. You’re doing fine, you’re going to be okay. Enjoy this,” he said.

How did one enjoy _this_? It was… electrifying, it felt ticklish, it felt like coals being branded into his skin. Charles shifted on the bed, trying to relax, forcing himself to stay still even as Erik curled his fingers tight around his sensitive cock and the plug thrummed against his prostate.

Erik stroked him leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. That was possibly the truth. Erik Lehnsherr was King after all. If he should decide one day that time should stop, Charles had no doubt time itself would come to a halt. And if Erik demanded for Charles to enjoy this, Charles would be obedient, would spread his legs and buck into Erik’s hand as instructed.

He breathed hard, dragging in lungful of air as heat pooled in his groin. His orgasm was nothing spectacular. It took only a few more quick strokes before it was wrenched from him. Charles spilled over his stomach and onto the robe, his hands shaking where he’d twisted them hard into the sheets, a broken cry tearing from his throat.

Thoroughly awash with pleasure, he flopped back down onto the bed, robe ruined with cum. His ass was still vibrating away and Charles made an uncomfortable sound, the sensation maddening for his overwhelmed body. Eventually, the device stopped. Erik pulled the plug out and left Charles wincing at the stretch.

There was a disconcerting ringing in his ears. Exhaustion, with the aid of gravity, dragged him into the bed so that his limbs were heavy and immobile. Just for a while, he shut his eyes, noting the sudden sleepiness that’d taken refuge in his body. He was tired and drawn out, like melted sugar, but never once let himself forget that he were in King Lehnsherr’s chambers.

There were rustling sounds, Charles took a peek to see Erik ridding himself of his clothing. Erik discarded first, his tunic and then his trousers, then came to tug off Charles’ robe. He laid beside him, manoeuvring his smaller body until he was on his side and Erik facing him.

“How do you feel?” Erik asked, his thumb stroking across Charles’ cheek. The tenderness of it made Charles smile.

“I don’t know... I feel a little dazed. Like I’m floating on clouds,” he murmured. “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” Feeling affectionate, he curled closer to Erik. Who knew he was the sort to seek cuddles post-orgasm? It was fortunate Erik didn’t seem to mind. He pulled Charles further into his embrace and Charles went willingly.

There was something hard and hot against his thigh. Charles was keenly aware that it was Erik’s erection. He moved his leg so that his upper thigh rubbed against it. Erik groaned, his hand stilling before they trailed down to Charles’ neck and chest, relishing in simply touching Charles, in feeling his laid out, exposed body.

“That’s how you’re supposed to feel, yes.” Erik’s touch slid to his stomach and the muscles there clenched. Lean fingers traced his sides and he squirmed a little. He’d always been ticklish. Then, they closed around his wrist, and Erik pulled it towards his legs until Charles felt his knuckles brush against Erik’s cock. Charles’ lips parted in a silent gasp as he darted his eyes down to look.

The King was big, much bigger than himself. Erik’s cock was long and thick and Charles couldn’t stop staring. Dear Lord. It was _huge_.

His King, noticing his fascination -- fear, maybe --  laughed.

“Go ahead. I want you to touch me.” Erik took Charles’ hand and wrapped it around his cock. Even touching it, Erik felt big; he almost worried he wouldn’t be able to fully close his fingers around it. Charles gave a tentative squeeze and earned himself a drawn out moan from his King. This was encouraging, if only a little. He was gentle with his touches, intentionally keeping it loose and relaxed, barely stroking the shaft, afraid he might hurt him or do anything to displease Erik.

Perhaps he had, for Erik made a sound of frustration and panic rose in the pits of Charles’ belly. “Am I doing this wrong, Erik?” His stilled, unwilling to move his hand an inch more. Erik let out a huff of breath but was nonetheless entirely patient with him.

“You can afford to use a little more strength, Charles. I’m not going to break if you squeeze harder.” Erik placed his palm over the top of Charles’ hand and urged Charles to stroke.

“Just like this…” Erik guided, voice a low purr, breath hot against Charles’ face. Charles bit into his bottom lip and swallowed around the lump in his throat. It stirred all sorts of emotions within him, it made him excited once more. Together they stroked and drew pleasure from Erik; Erik’s skilled hand over Charles’ smaller less experienced one, soft sighs and quiet groans filling the air between them while Charles stared on with fascination, enthralled by the sounds Erik was making. His eyes darted between the large erection in his grasp and then to Erik’s face, bewildered and amazed as he sought to memorize his King’s expression, from the concentrated knit of his brows to the way he smiled at Charles whenever their eyes met.

Hot want thrummed through him. He wanted Erik. He was growing increasingly infatuated with him such that he wanted Erik to draw pleasure with his mouth, an act he’d otherwise not done if it were any other man.

As Erik shut his eyes, Charles shimmied down the bed until he was faced with Erik’s impressive manhood. Batting the King’s hand away, Charles licked his lips then carefully, so very carefully, darted a pink tongue out and _licked_ , running the flat of his tongue across Erik’s beaded slit. Erik hissed. The sudden buck of his hips surprising Charles. Pre-come smeared across his mouth and cheek causing him to blink dazedly.

“Charles…”

Charles could sense the man’s distress, caught between wanting him to continue and knowing he was inexperienced. Erik bent forward, curving around him. Those lean fingers he was steadily growing fond of carded through the messy curls of his hair. The gentleness of it was soothing and Charles leaned into it like a touch starved pet.

“I don’t wish to rush you. Nor do I have any desire to hurt you.” Erik scratched fondly at his scalp.

“You’re not rushing me.” Charles looked up through his lashes. “And you won’t hurt me, Erik. I may not have the necessary skills to take you in fully, but I’d like to suck you off, just for a while. I’d like to _taste_ you, my King.”

What Erik must taste like, the weight of him on his tongue, pushing his lips apart, barring his mouth open. A King. He would taste strong, slightly salty and heady, the taste of him glorious on Charles’ palette. If he did it right, it would be enjoyable, both for Erik and for himself.

Charles waited for Erik’s acknowledgement to proceed. Excitement did turns and flips in his stomach and Charles had to push aside the fear that the King might find his lack of finesse and skill to be revolting.

“You don’t have to if you’re having second thoughts about this. There’s no need to rush,” Erik said.

Charles shook his head, not from defiance, but gratefulness. The King had been nothing but wonderful to him thus far, he wanted only to repay that kindness, to serve his duty to his King and to Westchester.

Taking Erik’s cock in his hand, Charles leaned forward and brushed the tip of his nose along the shaft. Erik made no audible sound, but his breathing deepened. Charles continued and licked a wet stripe all the way from Erik’s balls to the tip and this time Erik groaned, a rough gravelly sound that chased away the silence of the room. It was hugely encouraging, and Charles licked more fervently, noting Erik’s texture, the scent of those ginger curls around him heady.

He licked exploratory but greedily, lapping all over the thick pulsing flesh as he familiarized himself with the taste of Erik’s skin. He kissed the tip of that flushed, engorged head and pushed it past his plush lips, sucking tentatively at first, almost kittenishly, if he dared admit, like a youngling suckling for milk. Well, a different sort of milk, in this case.

Erik’s pre-come was salty, as expected. Odd and a little bitter, not something a normal person would enjoy. He inhaled the earthy scent of Erik’s sex and choked when the girth nudged against the back of his throat. It was uncomfortable, and his eyes blurred when tears welled up in them. He wasn’t in pain, but this experience was new, and Charles only sucked harder when he feared he wasn’t doing a good job, wasn’t opening his throat wide enough to accommodate Erik.

“Charles,” Erik called. “Charles, you need to relax. You’re going to choke yourself. Just relax, lick slowly, suck gently.” There were fingers splayed out over the back of his skull, urging Charles’ head forward and backwards. The tempo was nothing remarkable, but it was a good pace for Charles.

There, praises again from Erik. “There you go, much better… Just like this… yes, you’re good, Charles. You’re doing so well… good boy.”

Charles was not a boy. Despite that, the praises made him tingle all over, made him want to do so much better for Erik. He moaned around Erik’s impressive cock and earned himself a hard thrust into his mouth for his efforts. At that, he whined, pulling off from Erik to breathe.

“Are you alright, Charles?” he heard Erik say.

Asides from the slightly raw throat, he supposed he was feeling okay. Erik’s strong arms wound around his body and pulled him up the bed like he weighed nothing. Then, Erik was atop him again.

“I asked if you’re okay. Answer me when I speak to you, Charles.”

“I’m – ” Charles murmured. “I’m okay, Erik. Sorry. I’m okay.” Unsure of where to place his hands, he put them on Erik’s chest, holding them there until Erik wrested his wrists into the bed and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, that stubbly jaw scratching at his skin teasingly.

“Good. I’m glad,” Erik said, words sounding genuine.

When Erik moved, Charles felt the press of Erik’s length against his inner thigh. Thicker now, and harder, his cock filled with blood from when he’d sucked and licked it. Erik climbed off the bed to retrieve something. It looked to be a bottle, or a cup, it was hard to make clear the object under such low lighting. His King was quick to fit himself into the space between Charles’ legs, spreading them apart. Charles let them fall without resistance, exposing himself to Erik, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“Erik?” Lying flat on his back, Charles couldn’t see what Erik was doing even if he did have an inkling of what was about to happen. As one slicked finger breached him, Charles moaned.

Erik’s finger wasn’t as big as the plug but it was slimmer and went deeper, crooking up to rub him in such practiced manner that Charles immediately felt breathless.

“Relax mein Liebling. I’m only stretching you here. You’re going to be okay.” Erik kissed his inner thigh and Charles shivered. Erik was smiling, the shape of those lips imprinting into his skin. Erik scratched his stubble along his thigh and it provided a momentary distraction, long enough for him to miss the push of a second finger into his hole.

Fuller. Tighter. Hotter. Charles pushed his hips down for more, to feel more. His cheeks burned with shame when Erik laughed at him. So he brought his hand up and hid his face behind it.

“Don’t do that, I want to see you,” Erik said.

“No,” Charles panted, shaking his head. “You’ll laugh at me. I don’t want you to laugh at me – I just – it feels so good, Erik… I want more…”

Erik reached up and took his hand, tugging it away and lacing their fingers together. “I won’t laugh at you, I promise. I think only that you’re beautiful. I adore you, Charles. You know that.”

A third finger was added. All words melted on the tip of his tongue as Charles started to shake.

“Erik… Ahh…” he mewled. He would close his legs if only Erik would allow him. As it were, Erik sat between them, steadily pushing his fingers in and out of him, stroked him with an easy come hither motion. At a sudden change of fingering technique, stars burst behind his eyelids as Erik rubbed and applied pressure to his prostate, pressing incessantly.

“Oh, Erik… ” His cock swelled, hard and dripping as his King paid his pleas no mind. The squelch of oil and fingers in his ass sounded obscene as Erik pumped into him. “Erik… hgnhh…”

Erik kissed the flat of Charles’ stomach, cheek barely missing Charles’ cock. “You’re doing so well, Charles. I have three fingers inside you now. Three fingers. You are amazing.” Charles leaned into the touch of Erik’s palm at the side of his face, desperate for any affection he could get.

“It’s good, but it… it hurts as well,” Charles sniffled.

“It will, only for now, only for this moment. You’ll be alright in a while. I promise you.”

Erik removed his fingers. Charles writhed on the bed, waiting for Erik to take him, claim him. He’d have served his purpose then and the King might possibly throw him out of the room after with cum leaking between his legs but it’d be alright. So long as King Lehnsherr took and used his body, so long as his virginity was taken by him, he’d have done his job.

“Charles, listen to me.” Erik’s clean hand sieved through his damp hair. “I want you. I want to fuck you. I want you to be mine. But if you don’t want this or if you’re afraid I might hurt you, you can tell me. I’ll stop.”

He was being given an option. He’d never been given options before. When he’d been born, he’d already been told what his position in life would be, where he would end up: In the Genoshian King’s arms, in his bed, preferably. And Charles accepted the knowledge like it was the truth of the world.

Now his King wanted to seek pleasure from his body.

Of course. Of course he’d let Erik.

“Yes. I want you. Please.” He lifted his arms, reaching for Erik.

Erik smiled, pleased, and oh, Erik had a beautiful smile. It made Charles’ stomach flutter with butterflies. He returned that smile with his own, bright and happy, desperate to be touched, to be held.

The oil that’d been used on him was now being lathered over Erik. Charles raised his head to watch nimble fingers working it, never once losing sight of it. Erik inched forward until their hips were pressed flushed together. A blunt pressure prodded at his entrance, pushing into him. Charles felt himself stretching wide around it, felt himself being split open to the point where he thought his anal muscles were tearing.

It hurt. None of earlier’s preparations was thorough enough for when the man pushed into him. His King was huge and unyielding. Charles felt impaled, searing heat rolling beneath his skin towards the tips of his fingers. He clutched at Erik’s upper arms and thrashed violently.

“Charles…” Erik’s voice had a gruff edge to it. The King curved his body around him, caging him in. Unable to control himself, Charles made a high pitched sound, whimpering every time he unwittingly clenched so that the muscles squeezing tight around Erik burned.

“Erik. Oh God, Erik. It hurts so much, I – I  can’t. Please let it stop, please!” He strained against Erik’s hold.

“Charles mein Liebling. You’ll be fine. Breathe and relax. Let yourself adjust to having me inside you.” Even the comfort of gentle kisses skipping over the side of his face couldn’t calm the torrential flare of distinct pain. Agitation wound his body tight; Charles was trapped with nowhere to go, impaled as he were on Erik’s cock.

Erik sighed, gyrating his hips in circles. “I’m going to fuck you now, Charles. Say yes. Tell me you want me.”

“I – ” His voice clogged in his throat.

“Come on, Charles.” Erik pulled out an inch and thrust back inside, his balls smacking against Charles’ bottom. “Tell me to move, let me fuck you.”

It was odd for a King to ask permission from anyone. Charles reckoned Erik was merely being cautious for his safety.

Summoning every ounce of bravery he could manage, Charles leaned up to kiss the corner of Erik’s mouth. “Erik,” his voice wavered. “I want you. I want you to fuck me. I want you buried so deep inside me I’ll still be able to feel it in the morning. Please, Erik… Fuck me.”

“Yes, Charles. _Yes,_ ” Erik hissed, withdrawing until they were connected only at the tip before slamming inside, fast and hard.

Charles moaned sharply, slapping a hand over his mouth as Erik started to fuck him.

Quiet, Charles thought, be quiet.

He would not be a whore. He would not moan and scream and make loud filthy noises only bed ladies made. He’d been brought up a proper young Lord and he would behave like one no matter his current status.

There were wet lips mouthing over the curve of his neck. Charles tilted his head, allowing Erik further access.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear you, darling.” The deep baritone murmur was almost inaudible except that Erik’s lips were busying themselves over the curve of his ear, and Charles couldn’t help but moan, loud and desperate. “That’s right… Let me hear you, Charles. You’ve a beautiful voice. It’d be a pity to keep all that glorious sound in.”

Obeying, Charles shakily removed his hand, keeping them on the broad of Erik’s back instead. A second later, a whine escaped from the prison of his mouth. He flushed, ashamed. He sounded absolutely filthy. It was a wonder Erik even wanted him.

As if overhearing his thoughts, Erik said, “You’re enchanting. You are an exquisite creature, and you are entirely _mine._ ”

The possessiveness that washed over and embraced him was enough for him to lose all sense and reason. He moaned for Erik, throat going hoarse at the litany of his own cries.

“You’re big...” Charles licked at his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling, body moving up and down the bed as Erik fucked him rhythmically. “Erik, you’re so big…”

Erik chuckled, amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Schatz.”

What had that last word meant? Charles had heard it before, but in that instance, his mind was clouded with a fog that was imminent to stay. He decided to store the word in the library of his mind for until he could refer to it later.

As Erik fucked into him, Charles stayed pliant and nubile. Erik licked and nibbled into the side of his neck, biting marks into the sensitive skin along his throat. Tomorrow his body would be a canvas of colour, bruises and marks lining his skin like an artwork in display.

There was no telling how long they kept at it, but somewhere in between, pain had turned into pleasure and tenderness had bristled into something heavy and heady. Raw.

Heat grew heavy in the air between them. Charles sensed the moment Erik became lost in the wild frantic need of their copulation. Erik’s leisured rhythm had stuttered, in its place was a faster, more urgent drive as he started to rut.

The King’s thrusts were punishing, every slide and stroke sensitized, the drag of skin an addicting carnal pleasure. The fat head of Erik’s cock punctuated deep into him with every brutal piston of hips, sliding into his ass in a manner that could almost be cruel. He could feel Erik’s balls slapping at his bottom and he moaned at the image of it.

Charles clung to Erik, holding him tightly so he wouldn’t be pushed further up the bed.

“You are perfect, Charles.” Erik whispered, nuzzling at his face. Charles returned it with a nuzzle of his own. Then he buried his face against Erik’s broad shoulder as Erik thrust inside him in earnest.

Erik grasped at his buttocks and lifted his hips. The change of angle made sure that Erik’s cock hit his prostate head on. He gasped, head tipping back, thighs wrapping around Erik’s impossible waist. The pleasure of being fucked was glorious.

“Your Majesty – Erik,” Charles panted.

“Here?” Erik asked and did it again, slammed into where Charles was so sensitive, driving into that single spot punishingly. “Good?”

“Nggh… Yes, very good…” Trapped between both their bodies, his cock rubbed against the flat planes of their stomachs.

Erik growled, sinking his teeth into Charles’ shoulder. The spike of pain was all Charles needed to climax a second time, spurting messily everywhere, cock twitching as the last of his orgasm was strung out from him. Erik thrust once more, twice more, and then climaxed inside Charles, smearing his inner walls with his seed.

Erik kissed him, bit at his lips until they were swollen, then slumped over Charles in exhaustion. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, their bodies sticky and sweaty. Erik hadn’t moved, and Charles wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep. Erik’s cock was still buried snug in his hole. He wriggled, gasping as wet cum leaked from his entrance.

Shifting, he’d hoped to crawl out from under Erik when a voice rumbled. “Did I say you could move?”

Charles squeaked. “No you didn’t.”

“That’s right, I didn’t.” Erik gave a little roll of his hips and grinded against him. Charles whined.

It was fortunate Erik decided the position was not ideal for one to fall asleep in for he pulled out, leaving Charles clenching down on nothing; it was just slightly disappointing to feel so… loose and empty.

“Will you be going to sleep now?” Charles asked.

“Yes.”

That answer did not dictate whether or not Charles should stay or leave. After all, bed boys like him didn’t stay to cuddle. Bed boys were another form of slaves, weren’t they? He should be somewhere else, sleep where the slaves slept.

Moving away from the warmth of Erik’s bed, Charles’ feet had only just touched the ground when he was roughly tugged back, falling into Erik’s body none too gracefully.

“I still haven’t said you can leave.”

“But I – I’m dirty. I need a wash. I don’t want to stain your bed.”

“You’re not dirty,” Erik insisted. “And it’s already stained with cum. You can’t do anything about it. Besides, where would you go if you left? Where would you escape to? The castle is surrounded with guards. They’ll tie you up and bring you here to me if they spotted you wandering around the halls. There’s no escape, Charles.”

Charles blinked, eyes widening. “I didn’t think to escape, I just thought you’d rather be left alone now that you’re done with me.”

“I’m not done with you. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m tired. Stop arguing with me and come here.” He tugged Charles close.

“I would never argue with you, I wouldn’t – ”

“Quiet,” Erik said, spooning Charles from behind.

Erik’s body was much larger than his own and it enveloped him like a cocoon, keeping him safe in the confinements of hard muscles and silky sheets. Charles sighed, unconsciously relaxing.

It took mere seconds before Erik fell into slumber, breath curling hot against his nape.

I should go, Charles’ mind supplied. I shouldn’t be here.

Surely there was a place for where the slaves went. It was unsettling snuggled up next to King Lehnsherr. Even after his insistence to leave, Erik had wanted him to stay. It was highly confusing. He was a bed boy, not someone of equal standing. He really should leave. Now, if only Erik would release his death grip on him.

After a failed attempt at crawling out of Erik’s grasp, Charles resigned to sleeping. He sighed, fighting the dark feeling in his chest. He’d sort this out tomorrow morning when they woke. Perhaps by then Erik would be clear minded and realize that Charles was still sleeping in his bed, dirtying his bed sheets by mixing his scent into it. Then, he’d kick him out of the room and leave Charles to his servant-ly devices.

The idea struck sadness in his heart. The backs of Charles’ eyes grew hot again and he knew if he lingered on these thoughts, he’d begin to cry. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Charles shut his eyes and attempted at sleep, startling only when Erik murmured something into his hair.

“Mine…”

Charles’ throat constricted.

Erik was ever so confusing.

“Yours,” Charles said in disbelief. “You’ll never truly want me. I know you don’t. Come morning you will look upon me as though I were a common whore. And that’s okay. I’ve brought pleasure for you tonight and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Good night, Erik.”


End file.
